


Entre Nous

by staccato_ramble



Category: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato_ramble/pseuds/staccato_ramble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he tries to get rid of his heavy boots in Central Park, Oskar Schell meets his Nation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entre Nous

Even though I found out where the key belonged and I am now actively trying to be happier like Mom wants, I still get heavy boots. Sometimes it’s just because of the day. (Tuesdays, for example, are especially bad.) Other times I see mistakes in the newspaper or something happens at school and I wish Dad was here so we could talk about it. He’s not here though and he won’t be here ever again and that’s where the heavy boots come in.  
  
Most times, I lay in my bed and invent things as I do deep breathing, which is something I read about online. It usually helps a lot. Except other times it feels like my boots are made of uranium, which has the highest atomic mass of any naturally occurring element. That’s when I go to Central Park without Mom or Grandma or anybody but myself. I lay down in the grass, letting it itch my cheek and try not to think of anything, which I very hard for me.  
  
When I start thinking about nothing, it quickly becomes something even though I don’t want it to. Like, maybe I start trying to figure out a way for us to bottle up a person’s feelings. That way, when you’re having a heavy boots day you can go to a convinence store and ask for a little elation. The clerk would hand it to you and when you opened it, you’d feel like a hundred dollars and it would last as long as you needed it. Other feelings could get bottled; like hope and warmth and security (which would feel like your whole body was wrapped up in a big blanket). They wouldn’t have to bottle anything like fear or hate, though, because those are easy to make yourself. Anyway.  
  
It was a heaviest boot day and since it hadn’t snowed or rained, I felt okay about going to the park. The grass was longer than normal, so it tickled instead of itched. This time, thinking about nothing meant thinking about Mr. Black, which made my boots heavier and lighter at the same time. Except then a dog’s big, wet nose was snuffling in my face. It didn’t derail my train of thought, but the conducter did make an emergency stop. I made sure to stay very still, because sometimes dogs get angry if they think you’re trying to threaten them. Then, the dog might try to bite you and that’s how you can get rabies.  
  
I didn’t get rabies though, because the dog went from snuffling to licking my face until his owner ran over to him. I stayed still until the owner pulled the dog away and started scolding it. He looked like he was a college student, but I’m pretty sure that a college student wouldn’t be allowed to keep a Golden Retriever. He kept calling the dog Hoover, which made me curious, so I asked if it was like the 31st president or the vacuum. The college guy kinda laughed and told me it was for the president. I gave him one of my cards and as he read it, I patted Hoover on the head which made his tail _fwump_ on the ground.  
  
“This is quite the card,” he said, smiling at me, “What exactly do you invent?  
  
“Everything.”  
  
Then I stopped patting Hoover and asked what his name was, because he knew mine. He said it was Alfred and I knew his last name couldn’t be Black. I waited a little longer, then asked if he was going to kidnap me or anything. Alfred went _huh_ and I repeated myself more loudly, in case he was hard of hearing.  
  
“Why would I kidnap you?”  
  
“Why do people ever kidnap each other?”  
  
“Money, I think. Sometimes people just do crazy things, like laying in the middle of Central Park by themselves.”  
  
I frowned, because I knew that he was making fun of me. Except somehow I knew that Alfred was laughing with me instead of _at_ me, even though neither one of us were cracking up. That made my boots a teeny bit lighter, because it was kinda like we were already friends. I cracked up when I teased him back, “Well, letting your _Hoover_  run wild is positively _insane_.”  
  
Alfred didn’t crack up, but his eyes crinkled into a smile. He asked what I was really doing in the grass. I told him that it was because I missed the sixth borough, even though I had never been there. He didn’t know what the sixth borugh was, so I told him the story just like Dad told me. Except Alfred didn’t ask as many questions and the ones he did ask I had to make up answers for, which bugged me until I realized it was like inventing. When I finished, Alfred said he had one last question.  
  
“Who taught you that story?”  
  
“My dad.”  
  
“He must be a really cool guy then.”  
  
“Was.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“My dad _was_ a really cool guy. He’s dead now.”  
  
Saying that made me want to lay down in the grass again, so I did. Hoover came and snuffled at me some more, which wasn’t a huge comfort. Alfred laid a little bit away from me. I wondered if he was thinking about how they lifted the park up with huge hooks or maybe it was about his dad, if he was alive or not, or maybe Alfred was just coming up with a grocery list of things he suddenly remembered he needed. I wished that I could read minds, but only if I could pick which minds to read. Otherwise, my brain would fill up with the thoughts of everyone in the park and when I’d think up my own thoughts, there wouldn’t be enough room. My brain would overflow and thoughts would spill out of my eyes and my mouth and my ears. Anyway.  
  
It was after I don’t even know how long that Alfred rolled over to me and asked how Dad died. I stayed quiet, zipping and unzipping the sleeping bag of myself. Finally, the zipper got jammed halfway and I rolled over to look at him. It was very difficult for me not to start sobbing completely, but I made it so my eyes only watered a little.  
  
“It was the day the towers fell. I don’t know how exactly, but my theory is that he jumped. I really hope he wasn’t hurting a lot.”  
  
Alfred was quiet for a very long time and Hoover came to lick the tears from my face. Finally, Alfred rolled over the rest of the way and hugged me with one arm. I didn’t hug back, because I thought it was weird enough that we were hugging when we hadn’t even known each other for a full day. I was going to pull away, but then Alfred somehow knew to scratch between my shoulder like Mom does when I get upset. If I closed my eyes, I could even pretend it was her doing it. When he stopped, I was done crying and I couldn’t help but feel incredibly embarrassed, because only little kids cried in front of strangers. Alfred just told me that everything was going to be okay and something made it seem like a promise. So, I asked him again, “Are you going to kidnap me?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Could you kidnap me?”  
  
“If I wanted too, I guess so. You’re just a kid, Oskar.”  
  
“Would you ever want to?”  
  
He said no and that hurt my feelings a little. Even though it’s weird, I wanted for Alfred to want to kidnap me, because that would show that he liked me more than just a stranger. I asked him for at least three good reasons why he wouldn’t kidnap me and he cracked up a little before answering.  
  
“I’m not really up to taking care of any hostages, my job keeps me too busy. Besides, your mom would probably get lonely without you around.”  
  
“That’s only two reasons.”  
  
“Well, thirdly, I’d go to jail for kidnapping you.”  
  
I nodded, even though his third reason wasn’t very good, then stood up. Hoover hurried over and wagged his tail, so I patted his head. Then I patted Alfred’s, because I was trying to be hilarious. We both cracked up a little and he asked if I was heading home. I wanted to ask Alfred if he had ESP, but instead I told him that it was four o’ clock and Mom would be home. He said shiitake, except saying the real word, then looked embarrassed and told me he was late for dinner.  
  
I tried to picture who he’d be eating with, but couldn’t, which was frustrating. No one I knew at dinner at four, but maybe the person lived somewhere far away, where my four o’ clock was their seven. I thought about how it would be handy and unhelpful if we got rid of all the different time zones. You’d never get confused when you traveled, because the time in Manhattan would be the same as the time in Dresden. Except dinnertime might become breakfast, depending on how the sun was where you lived. Anyway.  
  
Alfred and Hoover walked next to me until we got out of the actual park, then we had to go different ways. I gave Alfred a handshake, because Dad once told me how important a good handshake can be. Afterwards, Alfred ruffled my hair, which I only minded a little bit. He also waited for me to cross the street before waving and then walking away.  
  
As I said hi to Stan back at home, I realized my boots were lighter than air.


End file.
